


Ce cœur qui ne s’ouvrit jamais

by raspberryhunter



Category: Don Carlos | Don Carlo - Verdi/du Locle/Méry
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Power Imbalance, Rodrigo/Flanders, Rodrigo/Liberty, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25643344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberryhunter/pseuds/raspberryhunter
Summary: Rodrigo is the King's man; but they also are only two men together.
Relationships: Carlos | Carlo/Rodrigue | Rodrigo, Phillippe II of Spain/Ridrigue (Don Carlos)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	Ce cœur qui ne s’ouvrit jamais

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iberiandoctor (Jehane)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jehane/gifts).



> Many thanks to my beta for a super-last-minute beta!

No one is as surprised as Rodrigo, Marquis of Posa, when the King commands him to be present for a personal audience. He knows that other men seek out such audiences to ask for rewards and favors, but he has no need of those, and he would scorn to pursue such a route to advancement.

And yet, when the King asks him point-blank what he wants, he realizes that he does desire a favor from the King, after all. He can ask for Flanders, for that compassion which would elevate this king over all other kings. He becomes animated, gesturing with his hands as he speaks. The King does not know about liberty, about freedom; well, where would he have learned it? Why, then, let Rodrigo teach him!

King Philip puts a hand on Rodrigo’s shoulder, and Rodrigo feels that hand caressing his neck. He stills, and realizes with some dismay that this audience may have been about something else entirely.

“I want to have you beside me,” King Philip says, and Rodrigo, who has been at court since he was knee-high, understands the double-edged words completely. The King has heard his words and is moved by them; but he also wants Rodrigo in a much more immediate fashion.

“No!” he says, suddenly alarmed. “I would remain as I am!”

“You are too proud,” the King replies quietly, and Rodrigo knows then that he will go with the King. He is the King’s man; the King has his oath and his fealty, and in the end he will submit, whether he will or no.

And yet --

The King is speaking now of Prince Carlos and Queen Elisabeth, and his fears and suspicions. “I put my heart in your loyal hands,” he hears the King say, and there is something tremulous and painful in the King’s face.

He is so lonely, Rodrigo realizes in that moment; lonelier even than Carlos. At least Carlos has Rodrigo; Carlos will always have Rodrigo's love, no matter what. But the King, who should by rights have at least his wife, his son, has no one to love him.

 _He has brought it upon himself,_ , Rodrigo thinks. He knows this is true. Carlos does not like to speak of his father, but he has said enough that Rodrigo, whose own father was loving and generous and kind, was taken aback by what Carlos considered a unremarkable father-son relationship. And the Queen! If she is aught but loyal and faithful (but indeed, Rodrigo is sure that she is utterly faithful to the King), it would only be because of the insults the King has heaped upon her.

And yet Rodrigo cannot help responding to that loneliness, to respond to this glimpse of the heart no one has seen opened like this before, not Carlos, not the Queen.

And if he could help the King -- if he could thereby help Carlos, help Flanders -- if he could help the King understand liberty -- He nods to himself, accepting what will come.

He kneels and kisses King Philip’s hand, only he lingers a little longer than perhaps is strictly necessary. He hears King Philip’s breath catch, and it makes his own heart beat a bit faster.

“Tonight,” the King says, and he nods. 

*

“Kneel,” King Philip says, his breath ragged. He has already ordered Rodrigo to remove his own clothes, and then the King’s. No, Rodrigo thinks, he will not think of it as the King’s clothing; it is Philip’s clothing. Now they do not have the trappings of the court, no gilded costumes or crowns between them. Now they are only two men together.

Rodrigo says as much to the K -- to Philip, who looks as if he does quite not know what to think of this; but at once Rodrigo also kneels and smiles deliberately at him. He is a man, like Philip; but he is also the King’s man. He can see that the dichotomy between his words of equality and his actions of a King’s servant is arousing Philip even more than he already was. 

It is having an effect on him as well, which he knows Philip can see. 

“Whatever you wish, Sire,” Rodrigo says; his voice is a little unsteady, and he sees Philip noticing it. 

“Then -- I want your mouth. On me.”

Rodrigo obediently bends and takes Philip’s member into his mouth. This is not new to him. He has done this before -- he is not going to think about with whom, nor of the indescribable feelings of adoration and love he felt as he gave pleasure to his beloved --

Philip groans, and Rodrigo’s attention snaps back to the here and now. Philip pulls back a little and indicates with gestures what he wants now, and Rodrigo obediently drops to the ground and spreads his legs so Philip can enter him.

But before he does, Rodrigo reaches up, guides Philip’s hand to his own cock and shows him how to stroke it, the long strokes he likes. Philip is clumsy at first -- how, Rodrigo wonders, with all the women and men it’s common court knowledge that the King has had? -- but quickly enough finds the rhythm of it, and Rodrigo can feel Philip trembling against him with desire as Rodrigo thrusts up hard against his hand.

As he gets more inflamed by need, he feels Philip pushing into him as an edge of pain that only serves to intensify his pleasure. Philip’s hand flags for a second, but Rodrigo shows him how again; and the mounting crescendo of sensation builds until Philip climaxes; and Rodrigo, on the brink of ecstasy himself, shows Philip how to touch _here_ and stroke _there_ until he too comes in an explosive tangle of skin on skin.

Afterwards, Philip pulls Rodrigo into his bed, and then the King sleeps, with one arm flung possessively over Rodrigo. But Rodrigo does not, not yet.

He thinks: Philip, with all his lovers, has never had a lover who showed Philip how to pleasure himself, or herself. The King, whom half the earth obeys, has not one lover who will tell him the truth, nor one friend he can call his own.

He could be that person, he knows; he cannot be the King’s equal in rank, but they are both equal as men. He could show the King a new world, one where mercy and liberty reigned, a world where a King and a Marquis could be not just lovers, but friends. He touches Philip’s face gently, gently, and Philip smiles and leans into his hand without waking.

It reminds him unbearably of Carlos, of the way Carlos leaned into his hand’s caress when last he saw him, and he snatches his hand back as if it had been burned. Is he being untrue to his beloved Carlos? He is, he is; and yet this is the way to save Carlos. And to save Flanders. And -- and to save the King as well, perhaps.

But if Carlos guessed! No, he must make sure Carlos does not know. Carlos must never know.

He falls into a fitful sleep, still imprisoned within the King’s arm, and dreams of Carlos.


End file.
